CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chapter Eleven
Sasha
I WAKE UP, momentarily disoriented, and then feel a warm, furry presence beside me. Rubbing Buddy’s head, I take a moment to remember where I am. Marco’s home. He said I can go today. But as I scratch behind Buddy’s ears, a nagging thought creeps in—how did he even get here? Did Marco go back and get him? That wouldn’t make sense. He wasn’t with me when Marco took me, so when did Buddy end up at Marco’s house? I let the thought go. It doesn’t matter. I’m just happy he’s here with me.
Then, another memory from last night slams into me—Marco pulling a gun on me. My chest tightens. I should be more afraid, shouldn’t I? The image of his cold, steady hand gripping the weapon flashes through my mind, but there was no hesitation, no warning. Just control. The way he looked at me… I shake the thought away. There’s no time for that now.
I slept in my clothes, which are now wrinkled and uncomfortable, but it’s not like I have anything with me to change into. I get out of bed and head downstairs.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see the guards standing by the entrance. “Where’s Marco?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“He isn’t here,” one of the guards replies curtly.
I curse under my breath. “Marco said I can go see my dad. You need to let me out.”
The guards exchange glances, and one of them shakes his head. “No can do.”
Frustration wells up inside me. “He said I could call him if there was any problem.”
The other guard looks at me, seemingly more sympathetic but still firm. “Marco can’t be disturbed. He didn’t mention anything about you leaving.”
I feel a surge of anger and helplessness. Why does everything have to be so complicated? They still say no, and I know arguing won’t get me anywhere.I go back to my room like I’m about to give in.
Thinking quickly, I take out my phone and look up Baz’s number. He answers after a few rings. I try to keep my voice calm and composed. “Hey, Baz. Marco said I can see my dad, but I need a lift. Can you help me out?”
There’s a pause on the other end. I know this is a long shot. “We could maybe have that date,” I add, feeling a pang of guilt. This will not end well.
He hesitates, but then his voice softens. “I’ll be there shortly.” He never asks me where I am, so I can assume all of Marco’s crew must know.
I hang up, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. This plan might be a terrible idea, but it’s the only one I have. Grabbing my jacket and stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I head back down stairs.
“Baz is collecting me,” I say to the one guard who still watches me.He doesn't stop me as I pull open the front door. I’m sure he is ringing Baz to make sure I’m telling the truth.
I wait anxiously by the door until Baz pulls up, his car coming to a stop. I head out, Buddy trotting faithfully by my side. Baz’s eyes narrow slightly at the sight of the dog, but he says nothing, just motions for us to get in. I can tell he’s not exactly thrilled about the extra passenger. I’m sure his Porsche has never had an animal in it. The interior looks like it just left a showroom.
“Thanks for this,” I say, trying to keep things cordial as I slide into the passenger seat. “Once I see my dad, maybe we can go on that date.”
He nods, a faint smile playing on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can shower at my place if you want,” he offers, but there’s something in his gaze that makes me uneasy.
“I’ll shower at home and put on something nicer,” I reply quickly, rolling down the window for some fresh air. The car feels suffocating, both from the tension and the stale air. I have to find a way to get rid of him eventually, but right now, my focus is solely on my dad.
We drive in silence for a while until Baz speaks up. “You know, I remember seeing you at a house party once.”
I glance at him, surprised. “Really? I don’t remember that.”
He chuckles, keeping his eyes on the road. The movement of his head makes his cross earring waggle. I doubt it’s religious. “Yeah, Marco had warned everyone to stay away from you.”
“What? Why?” I blurt out, the shock evident in my voice.
Baz laughs again, a bit louder this time. “We thought he had a thing for you. I think we all did, a good girl among bad boys,” he says, glancing at me with a smirk.
I’m taken aback, trying to process this new information. Marco had a thing for me? I shake my head, trying to refocus as I notice a blockage up ahead. The traffic slows us, giving me more time to think.
Baz goes quiet, and the silence becomes uncomfortable. I feel like I should say something, anything, to keep him from deciding that sitting in this traffic isn’t worth it.
Buddy barks suddenly, and I turn to rub his head, trying to calm him down. It seems like Baz has forgotten about his extra passenger; we don’t need to give him a reminder. Just then, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. There’s a sudden, sharp sound—a bullet whizzing past me. I freeze as it hits Baz, the force jerking him back against the seat.
Chaos erupts. Blood pours from the wound on his chest, soaking his shirt. Buddy is barking wildly, and people outside the car are screaming. I lie down across the seat, instinctively trying to make myself a smaller target. My hands are shaking as I press them against Baz’s wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but it keeps gushing out between my fingers.
“Baz, stay with me!” I shout, my voice breaking. His eyes are wide with pain and fear, his breathing shallow and rapid. “Someone, help us!” I scream, hoping someone will hear me over the chaos.
Sirens wail around us, growing louder by the second. It all happens so fast—the Gardai arrive, their cars screeching to a halt, and two ambulances pull up behind them. I’m in shock, my mind struggling to process everything. The dog’s barking fades into the background noise as paramedics rush to Baz, pushing me aside gently but firmly.
I’m placed in the back of another ambulance with my dog. I’m shaking uncontrollably, my hands covered in Baz’s blood. One of the paramedics checks my vitals, her face a mask of professional calm.
“She’s in shock,” someone says, their voice distant and echoing in my ears. The ambulance doors close, and we speed toward the hospital. I can’t stop shaking, my mind replaying the scene over and over. Baz’s blood, the barking, the screams—it’s all a blur.
I clutch Buddy close to me, feeling his warmth and hoping it can anchor me to some semblance of reality—my dad. I need to see my dad.
The hospital lights are glaringly bright, casting a harsh glow over everything. I'm sitting in a room, my hands trembling, heart pounding. Through the slit in the curtain, I see Baz rushed past; he was in bad shape. I can still see the blood on his face, the way his eyes fluttered closed as they wheeled him away.
I barely have time to process it all when the Gardai approach me. Their faces are stern, professional, but there's a glimmer of concern in their eyes.
"Miss, can you tell us what happened?" one of them asks, pen poised over his notepad.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "I... I was just coming to see my dad in the hospital.”
“Why is your dad in the hospital?”
“My dad...he was beaten up." My voice trembles, tears threatening to spill over."Baz was giving me a lift. That's all."
The Gardai writes everything down, his pen scratching against the paper. The questions keep coming, but my mind is a blur. I can't think straight, can't focus on their words. I'm reliving the horror of Baz being shot; it could have been me. If I hadn’t bent over to rub Buddy, I would be dead.
Suddenly, the curtain is pulled open, and Marco steps in. His presence is commanding, as always. The Gardai look up, startled by the intrusion. His black suit looks like he’s ready to go to a funeral. He looks so different than the way he was last night. There isn’t a flicker of the pain or loss now. His dark eyes are soulless.
"That's enough," Marco says, his voice firm. "Leave her alone for now."
The Gardai hesitates for a moment before nodding and stepping back. Jesus, that’s the kind of power the Mafia have.
Marco turns to me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, his tone softer, but I still sense the bite in his words.
I shake my head. "No, I'm fine."
He exhales, relief flashing across his face, quickly replaced by anger. "What were you thinking, leaving my home like that?"
"I just wanted to see my dad," I protest weakly.
"Not here," he cuts me off, his voice a low growl. "We'll talk about this later."
Two more men appear in the doorway, Marco’s security. I can assume from the way they position themselves on either side of me, their watchful eyes making my skin prickle with unease. Marco gives them a nod before he leaves to check on Baz. My mind is spinning. My dog wasn’t allowed inside, and the worry gnaws at me. Is he safe? Is he okay out there?
I glance at my hands; blood has caked itself into the cracks of my hands. I run my forefinger down one of the lines; they say it’s the heart line; mine is a semi-circle around the thumb. A strong heart - a long life. Yet, it could have ended so quickly.I clench my fists, the movement catching the attention of one of the bodyguards.
Minutes feel like hours, but finally, Marco returns. His face is unreadable, but his presence brings a strange mix of comfort and anxiety.
“Let’s get you home,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.
“I need to get Buddy,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
Marco frowns, glances at both his men and with a quick nod, they follow his silent command and leave us alone.
I don’t want to be alone with Marco right now. He takes a step toward the bed I'm sitting on. He’s so close, and when he steps in between my legs, I can’t hold eye contact.
A finger touches my chin and tilts my head up. The touch is gentle, but his eyes aren’t.
“Who the fuck is Buddy?”
It takes me a moment to answer. The halo of light behind his dark head makes me think of angels and demons. He’s a dark angel. A dangerous one, whom I shouldn’t be looking at like I am right now.
“My dog.”
He releases my chin, steps back, and nods.
“Alright. We’ll get your dog.”
As we start to move, another thought strikes me, and guilt washes over me like a tidal wave. “I need to see my dad,” I blurt out, realizing I hadn’t mentioned him in the chaos.
Marco pauses, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Come with me.”
He leads me down a quiet corridor to a private room. How much is this costing? How will I pay Marco back?My heart hammers in my chest as he opens the door. Inside, my dad is lying on a hospital bed, asleep but alive. Relief floods through me, so intense it almost knocks me off my feet.
“He’s going to be okay?” I whisper, tears springing to my eyes.
Marco stands beside me, his presence steady and reassuring. “He’s going to be okay. He just needs to rest.”
I turn to Marco, my voice choked with emotion. “Thank you, Marco. For everything.” I’ll find a way to pay him back.
He gives a curt nod, his eyes softening just a bit. “Let’s get you home now.”
I take one last look at my dad, promising myself I’ll be back soon. As we leave the room, the tension in my chest eases a little. I have my dad, and soon, I’ll have my dog. And maybe, just maybe, things will start to get better from here.